That Which Never Was
by Limelight
Summary: “Oh. Well. I guess not, then.” And the Astronomy Professor and the Potions Master were both quiet, as they watched the Deputy watch her employer. (ADMM... sorta)


**Disclaimer: J.K.'s... J.K.'s... **

**Yes, well. Hmm. Er... plot bunny bit? **

_gulps_

**See, I always personally thought that Minerva was in love with Albus. And that he never quite realized, busy as he was saving the world. She struck me as unfailably loyal to him, and willing to wait. I mean, she's been teaching, what, some fifty odd years. What resulted was slightly more angsty than I originally intended.**

**TNQLL will be continued. Promise.**

_Runs_

* * *

**Blind**

-

"_Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."_

_-_

**All Hallows Eve, 1981**

Molly was sure the house, whoever's it was, wasn't the best place for children. But Arthur had kissed her and said "Dear, when You-Know-Who was in power, everywhere wasn't the best place for children." And so she had agreed - maybe because he hadn't kissed her like that in a very long time, and Ron was teething and she would be up all night anyways. Or maybe because thanking every deity that she was spared from ever seeing the dark mark again would take too long.

The party was dark ("Mood lighting," Arthur said, and waggled his eyebrows) and the lights from everyone's wands were hardly enough to see by. Molly kept looking around, like she used to in Diagon Alley with the children. She didn't have to anymore, it was _safe_, he was _dead_, only she kept forgetting. Authur had to put his hand on her arm and breathe into her ear much too loudly that it was "Okay".

Then the fireworks started and she jumped, jarring Authur's glasses. He sighed and sat her down away from the explosions. Percy sat with her and kicked his worn sneakers against the sofa leg, a faltering rhythm for the dancers.

"Mum, where's his wife?"

Molly looked down at him, pale against her old maternity dress, the one she had bought when pregnant with Charlie. "Whose wife dear?"

"The man. With the beard."

Molly absently scanned the crowd for men with beards. Shouts echoed down from the landing, and someone was playing an old muggle song too loud. No beards. She went to the traditional fallback, "Albus Dumbledore?"

A nod. "Where's Albus Dumbly-"

"Dumbledore."

Unfazed, he nodded his agreement. He had insisted upon wearing Bill's old button down dress shirt, its sleeves now slipping down to cover his hands. "Where's his wife?"

"He doesn't have a wife sweetie."

"He does."

Molly sighed; he was normally more observant than this. "No, he doesn't Percy."

"Yes he does." The fireworks flashed outside the window, every colour except green. The wizard run companies had stopped producing that colour almost eleven years ago. "The lady. With the bun."

"Minerva!" The baby kicked, strong against her stomach. "No dear, they're not married."

"Why?"

"Well," Molly paused, pushing her son's sleeves up past his wrists, "I suppose because they don't love each other."

"Oh." Percy looked away, his interest caught by something in the crowd.

Later, Molly caught sight of Minerva McGonagall, and almost stood, intending to tell the older women of her son's mistake. But she didn't. She watched the Professor impress upon someone the importance of Dumbledore's opinion. And she didn't say anything at all.

-

"_We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"_

_-_

**Start-of-Term Banquet, 1984**

"Excuse me," said the new Astronomy Professor to the Potions Master, "but can I ask you something?"

"Yes?" The plates had been cleared, the ghosts were drifting off.

"Er… it's just…"

"Yes?"

The Astronomy Professor thought that his tone could have cut something. She hurried so that the something wouldn't be her. "Well, is it true that he really saved her from Grindelwald?"

He followed her gaze to the Headmaster and Deputy, chatting quietly. "A long time ago."

"Hmm." And then, in a rush, "Er… do their husband and wife know? That they're having an affair, I mean?"

The Potions Master looked at the two. At her, looking over her left shoulder, smiling at him, a small smile. At him, gesticulating with his fork, looking at something only he could see.

"I would surmise not, as neither are married." He looked back to his food.

"I mean," the Astronomy Professor continued in a whisper, "I always reckoned she was just a little bit in love with him."

The candles burned, bouncing suggestions off the polished silverware, and the Potions Master wanted to point out that it was impossible to be just a little bit in love with someone.

"They are not involved," he said instead, "and never have been."

"Oh. Well. I guess not, then." And the Astronomy Professor and the Potions Master were both quiet, as they watched the Deputy watch her employer.

-

"_It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new ear muffs." _

_-_

**July 1st, 1992**

"Oh, school was fine. Professor Snape was the only decent professor, like you said. Dumbledore and his pet McGonagall were so pro-Gryffindor, it was really no wonder they won the cup."

"You know Draco – please pass the butter Narcissa – let me tell you a little something about Minerva McGonagall. She could have been an auror, she was trained to be one. But she dropped everything to follow Dumbledore around. After he… 'liberated' her from Grindelwald. So next year, rememberthat she is nothing more than that. A pathetic devotee. A _pet_."

"Well that explains it. I knew she couldn't have got that job without performing… favours."

"Shut-up Parkinson. You're here to offer your daughter's hand, not make crude insinuations in front of my child."

"Sorry Mr. Malfoy. Master Malfoy."

"Are they really- I mean, does she-"

"Don't stutter, Draco. And no, Dumbledore doesn't know. She is a coward."

"So McGonagall just waits away by his side every day, pining away for a-"

"Parkinson, I grow tired of your vulgarity."

"Sorry."

"I knew there was something funny about her. Even at the opening feast; she fawned over him – more so than the other teachers, that is."

"Oh yes, Draco. It is quite… inappropriate."

"Fudge'd listen to that for sure, Lucious, if you brought it up you might get her sacked."

"Parkinson, flattery will not marry your daughter."

A pause, the clanking of silverware. Then:

"Minerva McGonagall was beautiful, you know. I saw pictures."

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, Narcissa."

"Yes Lucius."

-

"_I can't believe it… I didn't want to believe it… oh Albus."_

_-_

**Start-of-Term Banquet, 1998**

The candles burn high. The Deputy is making a speech, straight backed, hands folded.

"…Voldemort is dead, as you all know- Please, please! You can cheer all you want once I've sat down… Thank you. Hogsmeade is again open to Hogwarts students, and, unlike previous years you will no longer need permission slips. Quidditch will begin again. Please, silence… Thank you. And, now, the Headmaster." The Deputy sits. The Headmaster stands.

"Welcome, welcome. Another year has commenced at Hogwarts. I have a few words of wisdom for you before we immerse ourselves in the wonderful feast. Please stay away from the giant squid, as the merrpeople have informed me that she has been particularly testy lately," scattered laughter followed this statement. "And, as their have been, er… _questions_," the Headmaster paused, and waved his right hand. The motion blew out a candle. "The Deputy Headmistress and myself are not, and have never been, romantically involved. In fact, I have never been involved with any of my staff. They seem to find my sock fetish rather unappealing." More laughter. "The Forbidden forest remains, as always, forbidden. But less so, now that the war is over. Tuck in."

And if the applause is not quite as deafening as years before, and if no one at the High Table claps, nobody notices anyways.

The Headmaster sits down. The Deputy looks at him over her left shoulder.

_-_

"_Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."_

_

* * *

_

**Well?**


End file.
